


Flashbacks and Flashforwards

by ghost_writer0013



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Family, Fluff, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7865089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghost_writer0013/pseuds/ghost_writer0013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can't get enough of the Uncharted franchise, so why not work my fan service productively? These are some written snippets of scenes I can imagine unraveling during and after the series with some of my favorite characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He promised.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Just a general disclaimer that these brilliant characters aren't my own.

“You know, that picture is going to give us a lot of grief one day,” Nate said as he stepped away from the doorway and approached his wife, Elena. She couldn’t keep the laughter from bubbling through her pursed lips, “Oh really? I wonder why.” Running her thumb pad gently over the image, Elena could almost smell the sea’s heavy scent from the picture’s ink. She loved this picture. It was one from their earliest glory days; she sat on top of some of the illegal splendors of El Dorado while Sully smoked a cigar to her right and a younger version of her cowboy husband balanced a shotgun on his shoulder to her left. The trio’s grins in the picture were contagious, and Elena couldn’t stop herself from mirroring their elated expressions in the present.

“Look at us,” she said with a creeping sense of nostalgia, “And look at you! You’re wearing that god-awful belt buckle—“

“Hey, I loved that thing. I lost it in a gunfight over in Nepal fighting against Lazarević’s goons.” Nate grabbed the picture for a closer look and couldn’t escape his wife’s scrutiny as he walked across the floor of his attic-slash-office. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’s caught his unguarded longing for the days where the pursuit for long lost treasure was his livelihood. She couldn’t remember the last time he talked about his adventures and misadventures with Victor “Goddamn” Sullivan, but she figured it was one of his weird and faulty defense mechanisms. She knew he was lucky enough now whenever Jameson sent him on a dive to recover one thing or another, but she still couldn’t help but feel bad. Although they aimed for normal after their wedding, she never thought it would be so damn hard to be good at it.

“Are you listening?”

“Hmm?” she answered sheepishly.

“And you say I’m a bad listener,” he teased as he rummaged through a box labeled ‘Sir Francis.’ When he found what he was looking for, he turned around and smiled triumphantly. In his hand he held Sir Francis Drake’s bullet-riddled journal, and he waved it at her. “This baby’s bullet-proof, you know. It saved Sully’s life that one time in the Amazon—“

“After you ditched me and headed off to find El Dorado by yourself, right?”

Nate scoffed, “Yeah, because you were a reporter then! Besides, it all worked out, right?”

Elena rolled her eyes, “Sure, if you count me tracking you down and punching you in the face—“

“But, did you die?” Nate countered with a smile. His wife’s exasperated expression signaled his temporary victory as he took one long look at the image. Sure enough he, his wife, and Sully were smiling back at him with manic happiness as their younger versions leaned against their stolen riches. Judging by their smiles, Nate could see and remember why a life of adventure enveloped him for so long. But before his mind could wander to the constant ‘what ifs’ of his life, he slid the picture between the pages of Sir Francis Drake’s old journal.

This whole attic-turned-office space was filled with memories of success, failures, and everything in between. He kept it all up here when he worked, because he figured if it was close to him it was like he never stopped. It probably didn't help that he kept a toy gun at reach for his occasional trigger-happy urges, but it was all a work in progress.

After all, his days of adventure were over.

One look at his wife, and he remembered the dishes waiting for him in the kitchen sink. It may not be much in the way of adventure, but it was their normal.

He promised.


	2. Vick or Vicky?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little introduction to the furriest member of the Drake-Fisher family, but not without a fight.

The sound of knuckles rapping against the door surprised Nate to the point where his instant reflex was to push away from his desk and brace himself for what surely would’ve been armed mercenaries… Five years ago. Shaking his head, he was just about to get up and walk to the door when he realized his most recent find—a stone tablet laden with Mayan hieroglyphics about a secret temple—was teetering on the edge of his desk. Chucking his chair behind him, Nate threw himself onto the floor in time to catch the stone map before it crash-landed on the floor. He didn’t care that he could hear the door opening without his permission.

His wife’s fury at losing their only lead would be no match for this incredibly stupid intruder.

“You’re getting slow, kid.”

Nate’s ears perked up at the sound of his best friend, Victor ‘Goddamn’ Sullivan. “Most people don’t knock on other people’s doors at 2 a.m. in the morning,” he countered with an easy smile. The smell of Sully’s lit cigar wafted through Nate’s study like a sweet heady breeze before the two closed the space between them and joined in a hug. “Yeah, well, you’ve clearly never made a house call.”

Nate stepped back, “A house call?”

Sully pulled the cigar from his lips and shrugged nonchalantly, “I’m no doctor, of course, but that woman in Chile needed more than one visit.”

It took a massive amount of willpower for Nate to contain a groan from escaping him, “You’re a dog, Sullivan.”

“At my age you gotta allow an old man his pleasures,” Sully said as he grabbed the stone tablet from Nate’s desk. “Besides, she swore her husband wouldn’t be home until morning.”

“Oh, so it’s okay,” Nate conceded sarcastically.

“Of course. Perfectly okay, almost legal. Just like this tablet here—“ Sully gestured to Nate, “I take it you got the permit for this beauty too?”

Looking at his best friend closely, Nate could see how the years had started gnawing away at his rouge mentor’s features. While his hair had once been peppered with dark roots and white tips it was now harder to see where the roots and tips split; his whole head of hair had all blended to an almost cloudy white. His face was hardly smooth anymore; his crow’s feet had stretched to meet the wrinkles on the rest of his face. His cheeks sagged some, but they still framed his ever-immaculate mustache in a way that screamed, _“I’m still Victor Goddamn Sullivan.”_ Sure, Nate had teased him about his age fifteen, ten, and five years ago but now he was starting to get worried. Really worried. Experience and skill had managed to keep Sully in the game longer than most, but what would he do when he was trapped in a burning building or a smuggling deal went sour? Sully was no spring chicken by any means, but Nate could hardly get a word in when he started explaining the wonders of legal permits.

* * *

 

This was three years ago.

Elena and Nate had opened the door to find Sam holding an injured Sully by the waist as the two treasure hunters struggled into the house. Elena was quick to offer them a place to sit, but Nate couldn’t get his eyes off the bloodied footprints they left on the carpet. He could see that it was nothing serious based on Sam’s wary smile and Sully’s insistence that he was alright, but Nate wasn’t fooled.

“Funny coincidence we’re all in Malaysia this time of the year, right?” Elena offered as she grabbed the med kit from their temporary kitchen. Nate nodded, but he focused his eyes on the growing red stain forming on Sully’s side. It looked grotesque as the red sprawled over his lime green button down, but Nate couldn’t bring himself to comment on the awful choice of attire.

He couldn’t crack a joke, and that was saying something.

All he could think was, _“He was lucky this time.”_

Sure enough, the wound was a shallow one. Elena wasn’t medically trained in the least, but years of being with her husband and his revolving entourage of death defying explorers had taught her a thing or two about patching someone up. Putting the last touches on Sully’s makeshift bandage, she turned to see her husband’s grim expression. For once, his face was unreadable and that startled her, but what scared her the most was his white grip on the countertop. It looked as if he was stopping himself from something…

“Are you out of your damn mind, Sully?" Nate exploded, "If you would have waited a week or something, you could have secured those permits and gotten Chien’s men off your back!”

Stunned, Sully stopped fiddling with his shirt buttons to give his protégé his full attention.

“This time was fine, but what about the next? What are you going to do when Elena and I aren’t around to patch you up? It’s not like you can waltz into the hospital—“

“Listen, if this is about the blood on the carpet—“ Sully started but was interrupted when Nate said, “Stop. Just stop being a wise-ass for a second.”

Sam and Elena turned to each other as they saw the unconventional father-son duo stare each other down. The air was thick with tension but neither party backed down. Instead of speaking, Sully started buttoning his shirt and shaking his head. “That ain’t for me. Half the fun of adventuring is knowing you’ll get caught if you’re slower than the other guy.”

“C’mon Sully, how many more times can you expect to get lucky like that?”

“How about this? You do things your way, and I’ll do things my way. Heck maybe the two of us will stay out of each other’s way better—“

“That’s not what I meant—“

“Don’t worry, Nate. I got it loud and clear—“

“’Loud and clear?’ I haven’t even gotten started yet—“

But before their screaming match could even begin the sounds of floorboards creaking under unsteady steps caught all of their attention. Sure enough, the blonde head of a certain two-year-old made an appearance and squealed in delight when she saw Sully and her pushover of an uncle.

“Cassie, you shouldn’t be up right now,” Elena sighed as she made her way to pick up her rebellious toddler. How she had managed to crawl out of her crib was a mystery, but considering her father’s own tenacity for climbing and escaping, she couldn’t be too surprised. All of the men in the kitchen rose when Elena came down with Cassie in her arms. She instantly reached for her uncle, and all Nate and Sully could do was step aside. Elena missed the look that passed between her husband and his mentor, but it was silent and understanding. Nate picked the legal road for the sake of his girls, but Sully didn’t mind the sacrificing safety for a bigger cut of the profit. Besides, in the end the two of them were and forever will be striving for the same thing: the next adventure.

“So,” Sully began as he reached for his favorite girl, “I’m going to have make good on my promise eventually. Tell me, would you prefer a Vick or Vicky?”

* * *

 

 “Yeah,” Nate answered, ”But it was hell of a struggle to get it out. Not gonna lie, it probably would have been easier to slip in while no one was looking and just snatch the thing, but I can’t afford to have Cassie think her old man’s a criminal.”

Sully let out a laugh, “Fair enough, but speaking of…” Sully stepped back and pulled the door open wider. Nate could feel the dread kicking in when he saw a Golden Retriever puppy enter his office clumsily. The fluff ball could barely make it over the doorstep before it charged Nate with an eager enthusiasm that could only be matched by a certain blonde five-year-old. He could already imagine his daughter's high pitched delight when she saw her new best friend and travel companion.

“So, let me guess,” he said as he picked the puppy up for a closer look, “A Vick?”

“No boy-o,” Sully shrugged. “She’s a Vicky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving the kudos and comments that my first one shot got, so please keep 'em coming! This was supposed to be an upbeat little piece about Vicky, but I started to wonder about Nate and Sully's relationship after Nate decided to go legit with D&F Fortunes. If any of you have an idea or two you'd like to see on here, please comment below or send me a message.


	3. You win.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe bumps into the least expected person on a search through the Amazon: Elena Fisher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered how Chloe dealt with Nate walking into the sunset with Elena. These two women are absolutely brilliant in their silent complexity, so I wanted to explore that from Chloe's point of view.

Let it be known that Chloe Frazer hated rainforests.

When someone desperately needs a getaway driver, she’s usually the top pick. And how could she not be? She could drive everything under the sky and was more than capable with a pistol. She would even go as far as saying that she could handle herself better than most men in her loosely labeled profession, but tonight, under the humid forest canopy she wishes she was everything but first choice.

First choice was what got her here in the first place, and now she couldn’t even see five feet in front of her. Whether she encountered a panther or an armed mercenary was just as probable, but she put one foot in front of the other regardless. She was getting paid to find evidence of an ancient civilization rumored to exist in Amazonian legends. She could hardly say she knew what her employers sought, but she figured that her trek in the dark was worth the fifty grand she was paid to do. A little cash on hand never hurt anyone, she reasoned.

What wasn’t worth fifty grand, however, was pretending Elena Fisher wasn’t her competition.

“If it keeps raining like this we won’t be able to make it much farther,” Elena said as she pushed an enormous leaf out of their way. Chloe walked behind her with a flashlight, “The rain serves as cover. I wasn’t planning on bumping into you here, so it isn’t hard to imagine that there will be others here looking for the same thing.”

“I can’t imagine they’d be dangerous though,” Elena replied.

Chloe was glad the blonde’s back was turned to her so she couldn’t see her roll her eyes. Her employer had given her the tip that signs of civilization had been found in the northernmost part of the rainforest, but she wasn’t about to offer this information willingly to anyone who crossed her path. Not to mention if her employer was willing to part with fifty grand for just a sign of this elusive Amazonian tribe, then she was willing to bet that someone out there desperately wanted what she was looking for. And the funny thing about desperation is that it’s just two split seconds away from violence.

“Dangerous or not, I’m not going to slow down—“

“Then I won’t either,” Elena countered. Chloe shrugged as if to say “suit yourself,” and pushed past the ex-reporter and headed deeper into the dense greenery.

Hours later, Chloe was starting to feel the fatigue settling into her calves and thighs. Her bare hands were tender from all of the climbing and she could feel her hair was matted to her head with a combination of rain, mud, and sweat. She knew she was looking worse for wear, but Elena’s ability to keep up with her egged her on. Sure, the girl had improved vastly in her adventures with her… _husband_ … But Chloe refused to let her see she had the upper hand in this little, dare she say, scavenger hunt. Luckily for her, Elena stopped. “Hey!”

Chloe turned around and saw that her reluctant companion was flashing a light into what appeared to be more bushes. “What? Recognize a flower or something?”

Elena gave her an exhausted smile. “No, I skipped that badge in the Girl Scouts, but I did stick around for ‘find a cave day’.” One step behind her, Chloe ducked under the cave’s low ceiling blindly until Elena propped her flashlight against the cave walls. “Not too roomy, is it?” Chloe asked.

“It’s not the five-star experience I was aiming for, but it’s dry.”

Chloe shrugged nonchalantly, but inside she was more than content. After sitting down on the cool cave floor she realized her exhaustion trembled from her skin, past her bones, and straight to her core. She was starting to eye a smooth rock as an ideal pillow substitute, but she shook the thought from her mind. She needed Elena to fall asleep first, so that she could leave her and start making real progress. Granted, her body would resent her later but something told her that the satisfaction of beating Elena to the Amazonian find would make it all worthwhile. “We should get some shut-eye—“

“If we team up—“

Elena and Chloe both looked at each other mid-sentence and stopped. “Sorry,” Elena apologized, but Chloe could only stay silent as she felt guilt form.

“I was thinking that if we teamed up we can find this thing faster.”

Chloe didn’t need to hear it, but once it was out there she realized that Elena had been thinking of her as an ally this whole time. Meanwhile she had been taking every sharp turn and precarious leap she could find to dissuade her company. Now, well, she felt like a bitch. It wasn’t that Elena was vile in any way. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t unusual for Chloe to hear good things about her, but her best asset drove her mad.

Chloe reasoned that Elena was a balanced ensemble of admirable attributes. She was brave and smart, and she was reckless in a way daring adventure required. When push came to shove, Chloe wouldn’t mind having her on her side, but she couldn’t overlook that she had managed to take Nate from her. Perhaps it was vile of her to think that and it had been years, but there it was. Seeing the poor girl nearly blown to smithereens for Flynn and Nate’s desperation to save her in Nepal only worked in her favor, but Chloe couldn’t overlook losing so profoundly. She played nice. Every time she had to, as a matter of fact. But being nice wasn’t the same as being over it.

She’d loved Nate. Even if it was for a brief time, she felt it then and would have felt it for longer if he had followed their plan. For Christ’s sake, it would have been perfect. With money in their back pockets and a bright horizon, she could have very well been the woman Nate wanted.

But he chose _her_.

He chose the girl with the soft smile and calloused writer’s fingers. He chose the girl who defied death time and time again, and who only managed to get stronger with each fall, literal and figurative. Nate wasn’t an easy man by any means, but Elena wasn’t far behind. Which was good, because in the end he chose the girl who would go through hell and high water to bring him back. And although he wasn’t a thing to win or lose, she figured that if she ever truly had him, she never would have had to let him so. Besides, she wasn’t his type despite what people may think. In the end, Nate was simple. He liked the white bread, picket fence types.

So, in a way she utterly detested, she understood why she lost.

Smiling and shaking her head, Chloe raised her head to meet Elena’s gaze. Trekking through this nightmarish forest would be annoying alone, so perhaps some good company would make the time pass faster. Against her better judgement and self-preservation, she nodded. Whether she agreed to find the Amazonian civilization or to let Nathan Drake go, she would never really know. What was needed now was an answer, so Chloe responded, “Alright girly, you win.”


	4. Scars and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet moment between Nate and Elena.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Nate breathed as he pulled at the corner of his bandage with his middle finger and thumb. He ran a finger over the angry red splotch over his right eye and winced with some added pressure. “Another one for the collection, I guess.” And he had plenty of them. Between learning how to climb and steal and then actually climbing and stealing, he’d collected quite a few. That’s not even counting the times he’s fought or been shot at. Add a couple more to the tally, and now he can say that he took a few in a sword fight. 

On a pirate ship. 

In Libertalia… A previously unconfirmed pirate haven for some of the world’s most notorious pirates.

“Just another day in the life, really,” he sighed as he heard the shower curtains on his right swing open. Elena hopped over the shower barrier and joined her husband in front of the full-sized mirror. She followed his gaze to the tender flesh right above his eyebrow. “Add a little make up and no one will ever notice.”

Nate smirked, “Easy for you to say. I make a living off my charming good looks.”

“If you consider the dead people’s tombs you raid your adoring fans, I can’t argue there.” 

He scoffed, “They can’t exactly refuse can they? Besides, I don’t like getting scars anymore than the next guy.” Now it was Elena’s turn to look incredulous. As the cool air started to clear the humidity her shower created on the mirror, they both took long looks at the havoc their past escapades had wrecked on their bodies. 

“You can say that again,” she whispered as she drew aimless circles over the raised and scarred skin on her body. Although it had been years since she’d come to terms with being nearly killed by an unforgivable maniac in Shambhala, she could swear that she sometimes felt the searing pain of her skin being blown open by the explosion. Her reflection in the mirror didn’t do her any justice either. On the smooth glass plane, her scars almost blended into her skin seamlessly. But as she ran her hands over them, she could have sworn she still felt unimaginable heat radiating off her. Pain came in all forms and strengths, but pain like the one that tore through her years ago was a once in a lifetime kind of thing.

Any other time, and she wouldn’t be lucky enough to come out breathing.

Nate could see his wife’s expression grow blank as she retreated deeper into her thoughts. He didn’t have to think too hard to understand what made her to go silent, so he placed his hand over hers. He could see their reflections in the mirror and offered, “Makeup won’t cover these, will they?” Still deep in her thoughts, Elena nodded.

“But I wouldn’t bother. Some of these were hard earned. See this one here? I got it a year ago when I tried treating you for your birthday.” Nate moved his arm up to show her.

Elena saw the faint brown mark on his forearm and offered a small smile. “If I would have known you were going to try and burn the house down, I would have told you not to bother.”

Nate could see her mood wasn’t entirely lifted, so he shrugged. “Hey, if that wasn’t the best burnt pasta salad you’ve ever had—“

“You only had to heat the water for ten minutes!”

“Um, wrong. I had to _boil_ the water. That’s much more complicated than simply heating anything.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” she surrendered, but Nate could still see signs of faint grief in her face. “But my battle wounds aside,” he spun her around so that they were facing each other, “these will be my all time favorite.” Nate put his hands on her sides and then moved them to follow the swollen curve of her stomach gently. 

Feeling her smile form and grow wider with thoughts of meeting their future discovery, Elena wrapped her arms around her husband and leaned her head against his chest. The mist from her shower was now completely evaporated. Sunlight was seeping through bathroom’s open window and gradually warmed her skin. “You know what? I think they’ll be my favorite too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking about writing a story with Nate and Sam on a heist. Anyone up for a little adventure?


	5. Grand Gesture Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam convinces Nate to accompany him to Nicaragua for a "small" gig.

There’s something about persistent gunfire that puts things into perspective. You can be fast and strong one second, but in the next a well-timed bullet can put you straight out of your misery. You may be missed and buried by the ones you loved or more likely your body will be found in a ditch somewhere, because you told everyone who cared that you were going to spend a low-key weekend with your brother in Nicaragua. A brother who, by the way, was older and biologically programmed to be the smarter protector, but Nate reasoned he’d never been so lucky.

So now, he and Sam were knee-deep in shit he’d had no intention of being in in the first place.

“How the hell was I supposed to know Shoreline was working on the same lead?” Sam yelled behind him as bullets rained on them from all directions.

“Just keep running!” Nate could hardly see three feet ahead of him in the dark, but fear and adrenaline urged him faster as he sprinted behind Sam. All he knew was that he was running downhill, but he had no idea what he would be so lucky as too meet him at the bottom. Would it be a machine gun mounted to a 4x4? How about an armed helicopter? Shoreline didn’t cut any expenses when it came to getting what they wanted, and he figured they’d be ten times worse with their personal vendetta against the Drake brothers. Not to mention, Nate doubted Nadine was the forgiving type.

Somewhere in front of him Nate heard the sound of Sam’s body colliding against a chain link fence. “Grab on,” Sam straddled the fence and offered Nate a hand. Before Nate could even stretch out his hand he saw Sam’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit—“

Nate’s fingers barely grabbed a hold of the rusted chains when an ATV rammed into the fence and its driver started firing blindly. All he could do was hold on while the ATV dragged him. Somewhere above him he could hear a struggle, but he could barely keep his eyes open and his hands on the fence. Plants, dirt, and God knows what else collided into his face as he was dragged, but just when he thought he was going to have to let go the ATV jerked to a stop. Considering a bullet wasn’t put into his skull on the spot, Nate took his time to roll over and run a hand over his face at a weak attempt to get the grime out of his eyes.

“We need to get a move on, little brother.” Sam offered Nate his hand, but Nate didn’t bother. He stomped straight to the ATV and motioned for him to get on. “Have it your way then,” Sam breathed as he hopped on behind him. Without sparing a second glance at the oncoming mercenaries making their way towards them, Nate fired the engine and relished in the kick back that propelled them forward. Sam didn’t question the direction they were going towards until he saw a rock wall. “Umm, wanna think about turning left?”

Nate didn’t answer and just revved the engine.

Shoreline men were still riding after them at ridiculous speeds. Sam could feel his palms begin to sweat as the distance between their ATV and the wall grew precariously short.

“How about now, Nathan dearest?”

Silence.

Sam’s eyes were starting to see the cracks in the limestone face and vines growing along its fissures. “Nathan—“

“Jump!” Nate only gave him a split second to react and catch his drift as he pulled on the brakes hard, causing the ATV to slam onto its side and crash into the solid rock wall. Both men had managed to jump and roll away from the collision. At the speeds they’d been driving, that split second warning was the all the difference between life and a sure fire death against the rock’s face.

At least that’s what Sam assumed after seeing not one but four Shoreline ATVs and a 4x4 crash in a fiery maelstrom. He had to shield his face from the flames and heat that radiated off the collision.

Seeing Nate stand, Sam moved closer, “Well, that was flashy.”

Nate scoffed, “’Flashy’? You’ve got to be kidding me. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for your grand gesture!”

* * *

 

Feet up on the coffee table and a cold beer in hand, Nate figured his Sunday afternoon couldn’t get any better. From the corner of his eye he could see his still unpacked bag from his most recent D&F Fortunes excursion, but he figured that could wait. He was in no rush, really. He had a whole week at home before the next assignment came up, so he was more than content to relish his free time.

“Daddy!”

Springing up, Nate turned around to see his favorite girl unsteadily make her way towards him. “Hey there kid,” he said as he scooped her up and started bouncing her. Cassie’s squeals of delight urged him to bounce her higher and higher until he caught Elena’s horrified expression from behind the island counter in their kitchen.

“Nate!”

“What? She likes it! Look at her little face,” Nate held Cassie up so Elena could see the euphoria on their daughter’s face. Elena almost had to suppress a shudder when she realized Cassie had the same look Nate made when he overcame a long jump over an abyss. The striking similarity was uncanny, but before she could comment on it a doorbell interrupted her.

She threw Nate a quizzical look, but all he could do was respond with a shrug. People didn’t really drop in on them, unless…

Nate beat Elena to it and opened the door to reveal his older brother standing with a sheepish smile on his face. “Sam!” Nate yelled in surprise as he tackled his brother in a hug. “What’re you doing here?”

Sam reached behind his neck and shrugged, “Can’t an older brother pay his little brother an occasional visit?”

“I don’t see why not. Sam, come in,” Elena opened the door wider with one arm as she supported Cassie in the other. Failing to recognize her uncle’s face, Cassie stared at Sam with the same slight suspicion that Nate shared as well. Elena couldn’t help but stand by and watch as the trio had a stare down of sorts, but she was once again taken aback by how uncannily her daughter resembled her husband. Her soft blonde hair and dark eyes were Elena’s own, but her mannerisms were her husband’s down to pat. “Freaky,” Elena breathed, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“What?” Sam and Nate asked, but all Elena could do was get flustered. “Never mind that,” she waved off with some embarrassment. “Nate’s got some beers in the fridge—“

“But does Nathan have a boat?”

Nate could feel his weary suspicion grow into dread as he and Elena looked at Sam questioningly. “Uh, no…”

“Good!” He said as he clapped his hands together, “Because now you do!”

Leading them out the door, Sam opened his arms wide. Sure enough, there was a sailboat in their driveway. Nate couldn’t stop his jaw from falling limply in shock, and Elena’s surprise wasn’t disguised any better. He could see Sam’s face getting animated as he told them about the deal he scored on the boat. Elena was nodding beside him, but all Nate could focus on was the _why_ rather than the _how_ behind it all.

“So what’s the catch?”

“Catch?” Sam asked, feigning innocence.

“There’s always a catch when you pull a stunt like this,” Nate answered knowingly.

“I mean I wasn’t there for the wedding, so I never gave you both a gift—“

Shaking his head, Nate was done. “Sam, cut the crap. What’s really going on?”

Sam was smart enough to know when a gig was up, so he tossed his hands up in a mock surrender. “Alright, you got me. Consider the boat a ‘thank you’.”

“A ‘thank you’? For what?” Nate asked.

“Oh, you know…” Sam trailed off, “A small gig in Nicaragua.”

* * *

 

“Still gonna give me the silent treatment?”

Nate took the pen cap out of his mouth and gestured towards the cathedral. “No, but don’t expect me to be too happy when Shoreline comes and starts shooting at us.”

Sam let out a low chuckle and threw his arm around his brother’s shoulders, “You love this as much as I do.”

Rolling his eyes, Nate led the way. He didn’t trust himself to speak. In the end, he really _did_ love this. But it didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

“Let’s just find this thing and get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And part 1 is up! What do you think?


	6. Grand Gesture Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Nate make their way through catacombs.

When the walls aren’t caving in on you and threatening to end your life through blunt force trauma, Nate reasoned cathedrals could be hauntingly beautiful. Vaulted ceilings, solemn expressions on sculptures, and the omnipresent acoustic qualities were enough to make him feel repentant… Almost. Which, irony aside, would be hilarious considering he and his brother were looking for secret passages to find-slash-steal a murdered Nicaraguan dictator’s art stash.

“It’s hilarious,” Nate chuckled as he fiddled with a padlock on a trap door behind the altar.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Surrendered by a guilty Catholic, raised by crazy Catholics, and now we’re looting a Catholic cathedral. You can’t say those nuns were wrong when they said we were doomed—Crap, hand me that crowbar.”

Sam handed the heavy metal instrument to him and hung back as he saw his younger brother do his thing. “Having a little trouble there?”

Nate rolled his eyes and forced the door open with a final grunt. The sound the wooden trap door made against its rusted hinges as it swung open was a creak loud enough to wake the dead interred in the cathedral’s marble foundation, but he wasn’t worried. He and Sam had the whole place to themselves, and the best part was that there wasn’t a sign of Shoreline anywhere.

“Now we’re talking,” Nate celebrated as he jumped down. Sam landed beside him and handed him a flashlight. Clicking both of their lights on simultaneously, they eyed the catacombs’ white interior intently as they made their rounds clockwise and counterclockwise. “Wonder if we gotta press anything.”

“That doesn’t always work, you know.”

“Yeah, sometimes it’s as easy… As finding… A door.”

Both of their lights landed on door at the farthest side of the room at the same time. “See? It’s not always about pressing things,” Nate challenged as he gestured for his brother to move forward. “Your turn.”

Somewhere in the darkest recesses of his mind, Sam felt the venomous persuasion of a green jealousy threaten his self-control. He knew Nate meant nothing more than it was his turn to open the door, but Sam couldn’t stop himself from reading into it. Was it _his_ turn to find his own treasure? Was it _his_ turn to put the ‘Drake’ name on a lost fortune? If he hadn’t been locked up in that cesspit of a Panamanian prison, would he have had his turn sooner? Sam shook his head in a weak attempt to dissolve the vile thoughts in his mind. Rationality dictated his brother was an ally; he was someone he trusted with his life, before and after his fifteen-year stint in Panama. But prison changes a man, and all that time to think… It’s not a light sentence on anybody.

“Yeah,” he smiled humorlessly as he led them deeper into the catacomb’s interior.

For once, he was thankful to be completely cloaked in darkness. Meanwhile, Nate followed blindly; completely oblivious to his brother’s brooding.

Listening to the sounds of Nate’s footfalls against the tough dirt floor, Sam thought about how desperately he needed that boy’s trust. It had always been like that. When their father left them, Sam was the one who had to concoct one story or another to help Nate understand the many “how’s” and “what now’s.” He was a kid then, but Nate’s blind faith was what convinced him it was well deserved. But the “why’s”… Those were always the hard ones.

Why did he sneak into the library after hours in St. Francis? Why did he do it even after getting caught four times? Why did he start sneaking out? Why did he smell like cigarettes? Why couldn’t _he_ come? Why did dad leave? Why did he leave? Why this, why that… The thing is, he always answered. Just never with the truth. One thing led to another, and he arrived at his biggest lie yet: Alcázar.

Why did he lie about that?

“Hey Sam, look at this,” Nate shined his light at a brass knob sticking out of the ground. Under the flashlight’s beam, it practically shined. Nate’s voice brought Sam back to reality abruptly. Clearing his throat, Sam reached for the trapdoor. “Well, don’t mind if I do.” He wrapped his fingers against the knob and yanked upwards. Almost instantly the air around them was invaded with dust. Through tears, Sam and Nate waved at the dust cloud around them. “I think we’re onto something,” Nate quipped between coughing fits.

“Only one way to find out,” Sam leapt down and shined his light around him. The dust in this room was considerably lighter, but that was the last thought in his mind when he caught sight of the crates.

“Nathan, you’re going to want to see this!”

Landing beside him, Nate let out a low whistle, “We’re definitely onto something.”

“Yeah. Something worth more than your second mortgage. Still got that crowbar?”

“Right here.”

Sam could feel his heart beating furiously in his chest. Despite his cool demeanor, Sam could hardly contain his excitement as he lodged the crowbar under the crate’s top and pushed down. With the smoothest whoosh imaginable, the wooden cover swung open and revealed white sheets covering five frames of different sizes. He could hardly believe his luck. With a laugh, Sam clapped his brother’s back, “How’s that for a grand gesture?”

“No kidding,” Nate exclaimed as he reached into the crate and tore off the first sheet he could. Waving off the second round of dust, Sam asked, “Think it’s worth anything?”

Nate didn’t answer.

Sam was about to ask again when he caught sight of the awe on his brother’s face.

“What is it? Something good?”

“Sam… This isn’t just good. This is a Metzinger!”

“A who-da what?” Nate grabbed Sam by the shoulders and started ranting. The only words Sam caught were “Nazi plunder,’ ‘missing for decades,’ and ‘priceless,’ but that was all he really needed to hear. He and Nate whooped and hollered like crazy for a minute before their hearts started to settle. “Holy crap, I can’t believe it!”

“You and me both, little brother. Let’s wrap these babies up and—“

“Yeah, we found it!”

Sam was about to ask who his brother was talking to when he realized Nate was talking animatedly into a burner phone. When Nate caught him staring he mouthed ‘Elena,’ and continued his phone conversation without missing a beat. Any other time and any other person, Sam would have been quick to comment on how now wasn’t the best time to make a long-distance call, but he didn’t bother. One look at his brother’s face, and he understood that call was necessary.

He figured the “why’s” between those two weren’t hard.

Sam looked through the frames casually until Nate clicked the phone shut. “Ready to go?” Nate asked, and Sam looked at him incredulously. “I don’t know, are you?” Nate grabbed the crate’s top and slid it close. “I’m always ready to cash in a million dollars.” 

“Then let’s… Go…” Sam’s throat closed as he caught sight of a flashing red light pass across his vision. As his eyes focused he realized it was a grenade. He looked at Nate fast and tried to communicate what was happening, but there wasn’t enough time.

All he could think about was how he always answered his “why’s” with a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap on part 2! Looks like this is going to be a three part thing after all! How do you all feel about the angst? Is it too much or too little? Things are definitely going to heat up in the next part, so expect a firefight and some confessions. And please keep the comments and kudos coming!


	7. Grand Gesture Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last part to the 'Grand Gesture' trilogy. Nate and Sam are seconds away from death, and Sam comes to terms with the lies he's told.

Sam awoke frantically when his eyes greeted him with complete darkness. The room was enveloped in the night’s darkest shade, and he feared he’d gone blind for a split second. Beside him, he could feel Roxanne or Rosanne’s body emanate heat from her bare skin under the sheets. When her soft and exhausted snores confirmed her slumber, Sam leaned over the edge of the rickety bed as silently as he could to look through her purse blindly. He didn’t dare turn on the light, so his hand felt every one of her purse’s contents until his fingers closed around the cool metal of her smartphone. 

It wasn’t the first one he’d seen, but he could count on his hands the number of times Rafe Adler had pulled his out of his pocket to search for the most mundane things. Sam never would have guessed that his time in Panama would delay his introduction in the literal future, but he would have lied if he’d said the wonders of the iPhone didn’t escape him.

He pressed the iPhone’s home button gingerly and was greeted with a locked screen. “Fuck,” he breathed. He hadn’t seen Rafe type in a code of any sort. All he’d done was press his thumb to the button before it opened up. He was considering chucking the phone aside until he felt Roxanne or Roseanne’s hand slide over his chest. He grabbed her hand gently and slid her thumb over the home button. He didn’t think it would work, but in the time it took his brain to think of 27 different alternatives, the phone lit up and welcomed him to her home screen. He didn’t bother to look through her applications, because he was interested in one thing alone.

Nathan Drake.

His thumbs clumsily typed his younger brother’s name into the search bar. Unsurprisingly, multiple ‘Nathan Drakes’ appeared on the screen, but none of the results matched. That is, unless, if his brother had taken to golfing professionally or had recently passed away at the age of 97 in a senior home in Nebraska.

Sam browsed one Google page after the other, but couldn’t find anything remotely resembling his brother. After an hour perusing through the thousands of results, Sam shut the phone down with an audible tone. The sound had been so unexpected that his hands began to sweat as he nervously tried feeling for a shift in Roxanne or Roseanne’s breathing…

“Yes, I’m awake Romeo.”

Their bed creaked with movement before a click to his left illuminated the sparely decorated bedroom.

“I, uh, would’ve asked but you were—“

“What? Sleeping?” Roxanne or Roseanne’s voice had a smooth Scottish lilt to it that Sam couldn’t ignore at the bar the night before. While it had caressed his ears with sultry promises in his drunkenness last night, it held a tangible edge to it now. “What were you doing anyways? Snapping pictures?” She snatched the phone out of his hands, and he didn’t fight her. In all honesty, he didn’t even know that was a possibility.

“What were you doing anyways? Going through my texts, calls, or photos? Listen here, you and I are nothing more than a one-night deal. If you’re going to start acting like a jealous boyfriend—“

“I wasn’t! I was looking for someone.” Sam could see her interest piqued as she shimmied higher up on the bed and leaned against the cool metal frame. “Who were you looking for? An old flame?”

Sam shook his head, “Can’t say I was. I was looking for a… Old friend.”

“Is he in the, er, reacquisition business?” Sam chuckled at their shared joke. This woman worked for Shoreline, after all. 

“I couldn’t tell you. I haven’t seen him in fifteen years.”

Roxeanne or Roseanne scrutinized him under a cocked eyebrow before she sighed and lit the screen up. “Fine, let’s have a look here, shall we? What’s the bloke’s name?” She ran a hand through her scarlet tresses as she started her search.

“Nathan. Nathan Drake.” Roxeanne or Roseanne’s thumb stopped scrolling, and she turned her face to face him; her expression was incredulous. “ _The_ Nathan Drake? He wouldn’t happen to run with a Victor Sullivan would he?”

Sam’s skin crawled at the mention of Sullivan’s name. He thought the old man wasn’t any better than a greasy old crook, but Nathan had taken an unparalleled liking to him when they were younger. “Could be… Hey, what are you doing?”

Roxeanne or Roseanne’s thumbs were scrolling hastily through different tabs and search engines. Sam was just about to interrupt her when she typed in ‘Elena Fisher.’ Nearly instantly thousands of photos featuring a blonde appeared. The woman was clearly renowned for one thing or another, but Sam didn’t pay any mind until he caught sight of a familiar, albeit older, picture of his brother. “Holy shit, that’s him!” Roxeanne or Roseanne clicked on the picture and handed the phone to him. Sitting up, Sam leaned against the headboard beside her as he took in his little brother’s face. 

Although time had worn some signs of experience on his face, Sam would have recognized him in a crowd of a thousand faces. “That’s him alright. Who’s the blonde?”

“The lucky broad who snagged him. Who else?” Only then did Sam see the wedding ring on his brother’s left hand. “Never took the kid for a picket fence type.”

“I’d be hard-pressed to say that, mate. From what I hear she’s just like him. She was with him when he found El Dorado a few years back.”

Sam handed her back the phone with a quizzical look, “Right. Okay. The mystical—“

“Not so mystical, I’m afraid. He beat Rafe and about a dozen others to it. He even managed to take down Gabriel Roman’s men with enough loot in his boat to have good ol’ time. And then there was Shambala. Now that is one hell of a story. Apparently…”

Sam’s mind drifted too far to keep his attention on the rest of her story. He could see her gesticulating wildly beside him as she told him about the little brother he once knew, but it was clear to see that Nathan had become more than a man since he’d been locked away. The boy had become a damn _legend_. Meanwhile all he’d managed to do was read a couple of books and make some weak promises about a treasure that may or may not exist.

How could he face that kid?

When they were younger, it was easy to be the older brother. After all, he had about five more years of experience under his belt for everything. He taught the kid how to climb, steal, and break into just about anything. Then there was the shaving and talking to girls… All that, was _him_. He was the image of wisdom; it was a perverse justice that he earned just by being born sooner. But now? He was fifteen years _behind_.

“I’m going to find that damn treasure.”

“Um, come again?”

Sam blinked and looked at Roxanne or Roseanne… _What was her name again?_ “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Are those my pants?” Sam yanked the sheets off them and ignored her curious looks as he pulled on his jeans. “I imagine. You’ve been the first around these parts in a while.”

Sam threw her a suggestive wink as he pulled his shirt on. 

“So, you’re going to join Rafe on his mad search for pirate treasure?” She mocked.

“Something like that,” he grabbed his jacket and made his way for the door. “Besides I got nothing to lose, right? I’m already dead.”

* * *

 

“Sam, duck!”

Nate swung the crowbar right where Sam’s head had just been, and he batted the grenade right back through the doorway it had come from. Seconds later, the cathedral’s foundation shuck. Nate could hear the surprised screams above him, but he paid them no mind. “Sam, c’mon!” He grabbed Sam’s collar and yanked up. The sudden jerk brought Sam to his senses. “Jesus, how are we going to get out of here? How are we going get _these_ out of here?” Nate dug his phone out of his pocket and started dialing furiously. “I’m going to call in a favor. Think you can handle that mess upstairs?”

Sam threw his hands in the air in exasperation, “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” He started climbing up through the doorway when he felt Nate grab his ankle. “What now?”

“Do us both a favor and don’t get shot.” Sam would have snapped back with a sarcastic retort, but there was something lying underneath Nate’s joking tone that told him it was a real request. 

“Not planning on it, little brother.” Sam climbed over the ledge, and he was surprised to see a group of six unconscious Shoreline mercenaries. He grabbed one of their rifles and tossed another into the chamber below for Nate. He cocked the gun and held it at the ready. He was sure someone heard the explosion, and it wouldn’t be long before reinforcements arrived. 

The adrenaline coursing through his body shot his nerves, so he jumped when he heard Nate’s footsteps behind him. “Little rusty there, don’t you think?”

“Yeah well, rusty anything wouldn’t have stopped me from shooting you on the spot. Any news?”

“It’s a little flashy, but it’ll have to do. You like grand gestures don’t you?”

“Wait, what?”

Nate opened his mouth to explain, but his eyes went wide as two things happened simultaneously: the cathedral doors were blown open by Shoreline and the ceiling around them exploded. Sam could hear his ears blow out and deafen him with a high-pitched whistle. Nate stumbled to regain his balance, but a second hadn’t passed before he slid to cover and started shooting. Sam followed his lead. “How many of them are there?”

Nate reloaded, “I’m not sticking my head out there to see, but find the hook!” Sam looked up towards the caved in ceiling and saw a helicopter making its precarious descent. He couldn’t recognize who was in the pilot’s seat, but sure enough, there was hook lowering closer and closer. Nate looked at him and gestured towards the general direction of the art collection. “Got it, cover me!” Sam threw his rifle in front of him and bear crawled towards the opening. He could hear bullets flying around him and lodging into the cathedral’s ruined stone interior. Right before he dove head first into the lower chamber, his hand clasped around the helicopter’s hook. With sweating palms, he forced the hook into the crate’s wooden sides. “That should hold.” Hoping a bullet wouldn’t be waiting for him outside, he climbed over and saw Nate holding his own behind their makeshift barrage. He could see three or four uniformed men on the ground, unconscious, but Nate was still standing.

“We’re good to go!” Sam waved at the helicopter, and it started its ascent. “How are we getting out of here?”

Nate looked at the helicopter and back at his brother. “You’re looking at it. Let’s go!” Nate shoved him forward and Sam started sprinting. The helicopter had already made some progress, and the crate was hovering at least ten feet off the ground. Sam didn’t hesitate to run up a fallen wall to give him the extra height. He kicked off the collapsed stone wall and latched onto the crate with an exhilarated scream. “Yeah!” Below him he could still hear gunshots, but he couldn’t see Nate as the helicopter flew higher and higher. Before his manic triumph could turn into horror, he felt a hand latch onto his ankle and Nate’s own scream of success. 

“Holy shit, we’re doing this!” He screamed, but Nate didn’t hear; the helicopter blades were too loud. Sam tried looking down to make eye contact, but instead of focusing on Nate’s triumphant expression, he saw a Shoreline mercenary pointing a gun in their direction. “Nathan!”

But the gun never fired.

The mercenary’s form was becoming smaller and smaller by the second, but he could make out the person struggle with their helmet before yanking it off and revealing the most vivid red hair he’d ever set eyes on. 

_It’s her_ , he thought just before a rope ladder fell and he started to climb into the helicopter’s interior.

* * *

The helicopter’s flight wasn’t especially uncomfortable, but Sam couldn’t shut his eyes for much needed sleep. After hasty introductions Sam learned that the pilot was none other than the infamous Chloe Fraser. He’d never had the pleasure of meeting her, but it wasn’t unusual for her name to be mentioned at the Drake-Fisher household. Another ‘old friend’ named Charlie Cutter had accompanied her, but he wasn’t one for words as far as Sam could tell. Nate swore the paintings were what had him speechless, but Sam didn’t pay mind. He had been the first to retreat to the metal benches for sleep, but he was the last one sitting awake. 

“Nathan.”

Nate’s head bobbed and dipped with the helicopter’s flight, but he didn’t stir. The helicopter’s noise drowned out most conversation, but Sam felt comfort knowing he couldn’t be heard. “I didn’t mean to lay low with him for that long. One month turned into two, two months into six… Before I knew it, I was going gray with Rafe and I wasn’t any closer to the treasure than I was fifteen years ago.” 

Nate’s response was quiet snores.

“I couldn’t go back to you with nothing, man. That was our dream, remember? You, me, and Avery’s treasure, but I messed up and got shot. You went on ahead and lived. Coming back and hearing you’d kept going… It hurt, not gonna lie. I know it's wrong, but how else was it supposed to feel? Imagine being in the dark for a couple years and finding out Sully or Elena or, for Christ’s sake, Cassie discovered men on Mars. I didn’t expect you not to, but… You always needed me. You’d ask a million questions about everything, and I’d spend hours with books and people preparing for the next one. You got older, and the questions were less, but shit. You still needed me, and coming out to another reality was hard.” Sam leaned his head against the helicopter’s cool frame and clenched his eyes shut. 

“I lied ‘cause I needed you to need me, little brother.”

Sam’s eyes were still shut when his confession left his lips, and he allowed the helicopter’s lazy sway to lull him into an exhausted sleep. 

In the cockpit, Chloe waited until she could hear Sam’s breathing even out before she switched off the headsets. “I don’t think we were supposed to hear that.”

“Probably not, but he could buy our silence with a cut.”

Chloe scoffed, “You cold bastard.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind losing a few thousands.” Charlie scratched his head with a smile, “The bastard has nearly ten million sitting in that crate.”  
Chloe could feel her own smile forming, “Looks like the Drake boys finally got their treasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you and thank you to all of you who have commented and posted kudos! I'm sorry for the late update, but I hope this nice and long chapter will have made it worth while.


	8. "You're Insane."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is post Drake's Fortune and before Among Thieves. It's a little interaction between Sully and Elena early on in their friendship.

Elena swung her pistol at the unsuspecting guard with full-force. With a resonating crack! the guard slumped forward; completely unaware of what hit him. In front of her, she could see Sully’s sharp smirk in the dim light of his cigar. The older man’s amused gaze followed his protégé’s newest inamorata with amusement as she patted the unconscious guard’s pockets. He wasn’t completely surprised to see her. After all, she had decided to come along after Nate offered to come through with his promise of a good story. He’d damn near injured himself when he rolled his eyes at that little gesture. He and Nate knew very well that their occupations weren’t for the casual wonderstruck tourist, and yet there he went. It’s not like he hadn’t seen Nate do a stupid thing before, but this… This thing with the reporter. It was lasting a lot longer than he expected.

“Taking out guards now, huh? I’m telling you sweetheart, you’re a bucket o’ surprises.”

Elena let out a weak laugh and jiggled the guard’s keys in the jail cell’s keyhole. “A party trick Nate showed me,” she said as she opened the door. “Besides, a good story is full of surprises, right?”

Sully clapped his hands in agreement and began to follow her out. “Sure, if you count breaking Venezuelan laws a surprise. I’m telling you, these people are used to having a law or two broken— “

“By the people who are supposed to protect them. It’s disgusting,” Elena said with a shake of her head. Sully was tempted to retort with a comment about a black kettle. It wasn’t like he’d been arrested for doing good things, and her little incident with the guard wouldn’t ring too well in court. As long as she was being flexible, though, Sully would tolerate her a little longer. One misstep on her part, however, and he’d gladly strand her in the middle of a protest. He’d like to see how she could talk her way out of having another journalist’s identification papers and permission slips.

“But what I don’t get is why the government is suddenly employing secret police to kidnap people. They’ve been violent before… Everyone knows, but this?” Elena mused as she reached for the window. While she messed with the exit’s clasp, Sully reached behind an abandoned guard’s desk and started rummaging around. “Yeah, uh, a damn shame.” His hands blindly followed grooves and bumps until his fingers touched cold metal. With a knowing smile, he pulled a gold watch. He eyed it knowingly. It would fetch a hefty price in a local black market. At least enough to fly him and the kid out of town.  
“—and now, they’re just kidnapping people right out of their homes! For demanding their human rights! Can you believe that?” Sully glanced up out of his trance and looked towards the blonde’s moonlit silhouette against the window’s opening. He couldn’t believe she was still droning on about this. Pocketing the watch discreetly, he climbed out of the window behind her. “Yeah, uh, a damn— “

“’A damn shame.’”

They finished at the same time. Elena smirked at him, “I get it. You think this is dumb, don’t you?”

Sully rolled his eyes for the second time that night and brushed past her. When he didn’t hear her footfalls behind him, he turned around. “What? Thinking about booking an extension at this fine hotel? I promise you the beds aren’t as great as they look.”  
Elena crossed her arms over her chest and walked over to him, slowly. “What’s your problem?”

Looking behind her and his shoulders, Sully then threw his hands in the air as if to ask her what she meant. He knew he didn’t have to ask her flat out. The girl was as sharp as a tack. It was infuriating. She definitely belonged to a higher caliber than the usual bimbos Nate had the occasional dalliance with, and frankly, he simply didn’t get it. The girl looked like she valued her life, and yet here she was. Hanging around with a pair of crooks in a country torn apart by civil war. And for what? A damn story no one was going to bother reading? Sully risked his life time and time again for an unbeatable rush of doing what so many desk-slaves dreamed about doing. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but he knew if it was anything like yesterday, it would make for a great pick-up line at a bar somewhere nice and tropical. But this girl? She genuinely believes her stories would make a goddamned difference.

And he had no time for anyone’s naïve idealism.

“I don’t have a problem,” he lied. He smiled, his charming smile, and approached her. For a second he considered telling this girl the truth. He thought about just laying it all on her. Maybe that would work some sense into that dense brain of hers, but he noticed something he hadn’t before. As he took one step and then another, he noticed she didn’t step back to create distance. She met his gaze and squared her shoulders. Her gaze seemed to challenge him; it almost dared him to try something, but he stopped a few inches short. “Seriously?” She asked.

“You’re insane,” he realized.

This took her aback. She’d been expecting something demeaning.

“I’m insane?”

“You heard me. Look around, Elena. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and you just busted me out of a jail cell. I didn’t ask for your help, and yet, here you are. You’re here for a story, but you follow Nate and I on a lead that I’m damn sure is going nowhere. You won’t get your story, and we won’t get our loot. So really, you’re insane. Why else would you be here?” he finished accusingly. Sully didn’t know how he expected her to react, but he hadn’t anticipated seeing a smile draw slowly across her face.

“Who says I came here for you?”

Sully was taken aback, “What?”

Elena held up a calm finger and reached into her back pocket. She took out crumpled pieces of yellow paper and held them out to him for him to see. “I didn’t come here for you. I came here for these, Sully. You were just a detour.” She laughed and unfolded one of the slips. “These document kidnappings and other illicit activities. These cops are bad guys, and I got the kind of proof that is going to make my producer a very happy man.”

He looked at the slips with dumbstruck awe clear on his face. “You… Got your story?” He asked incredulously.

Elena smirked as she folded the slips back into her back pocket, “You don’t have to get it, but we are going to have to get along. The next town is ten miles that way, and I don’t get cell reception out here.”

Sully was starting to believe this was an outlandish joke someone in the higher ups of the universe had concocted. First, he’d gotten stuck with a scrawny kid in Columbia. The kid was just about screwed before he’d gotten a hold of him. His hopes weren’t high then, but Nate proved him wrong. The kid was just as persistent as he was stubborn. By now, he figured he’d never make the same mistake again, but here he was. Out in the butt-fuck of nowhere with Elena Fisher, and he was starting to think it wasn’t too damn bad. A little idealism couldn't hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this, please comment or toss a kudos my way!


	9. "Left Behind."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from Elena's point of view before she received that call from Nate in Uncharted 4.

_“Locals report that this monsoon season has been the most severe in recent history. Houses are being swept away and mudslides are blocking important roadways. Authorities are advising locals to take extra precaution…”_

In the glow of the television screen, it was easy to see the lines of worry drawn deeply in Elena’s face. Her eyes darted from corner to corner on the small luminescent screen, hoping to see a brief glimpse of her husband’s face. She knew it was futile, but she couldn’t help herself. It had been weeks since he’d set off with Jameson for the Malaysia job, and for just as long there had been terrible weather reports from the island country. She knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself; the man had escaped death too many times to count, but she still worried. This had been the first time in years that they had spent so much time apart, and to make it worse, they hardly spoke. They would share the occasional minute-long update on the phone, and then the line would go dead. The last time he called it had been so hurried that when he hung up Elena caught herself speaking to a mute tone on the other end. 

Elena ran her hand along the banister as she made her way to Nate’s study in the dark. She knew the steps by heart, and finding the drawstring from the roof wasn’t hard. Pushing up the trapdoor and being met with complete silence… That wasn’t easy. A part of her almost expected to see him working at his desk, but instead she saw a barren room littered with toy bullets. Grabbing one of the plastic pistols, Elena smiled at the memory of losing _that_ battle in the toy store. She’d been embarrassed when the cashier eyed her and Nate mockingly, but the purchase hadn’t been as stupid as she’d thought. Alone in the study, she could almost hear his laugh coming from behind the piles and piles of travel gear. They’d spent countless hours shooting each other with harmless projectiles and then ending up in laughing heaps when their adrenaline would dry. And although those moments of levity were supposed to the be the ones where her mind turned off and she lived in the moment… She didn’t.

Tired and sweating on the ground, she’d roll over to look at him and she could see this unmistakable longing forming in his expression. She would never notice it if it weren’t for their occasional gun battles in the attic, because it had gradually become a permanent fixture on his face. He wore domesticity so well that he could fool Sullivan, but not her. She’d fallen in love with the adventurer, not the nine-to-five husband. But who could she blame but herself?

He thought suburbia was what she wanted, so he committed to his promise. They bought the house, the car, and the couch with money they both earned from their adult jobs; the kind you got benefits from. They followed a routine and it was comfortable, so they never asked questions. They didn’t talk about it, and now she was beginning to wonder if they should have paused, just once, to ask, _“Are we happy?”_

She would have been the first to ask years ago. If she remembered correctly, that’s what broke them up the first time. Now, a few years into wedded bliss, they didn’t risk answering the hard questions. She didn’t want to say they were uncomfortable with each other, because they weren’t. But the hard questions… Sometimes she wondered if their lurking in the recesses of her mind was easier than speaking them aloud. She didn’t want to pick a fight with him. The last thing he needed from her was a suspicion that he was failing her somehow, her and his promise of domesticity. Alone in their house now, however, she started wondering if that’s what she ever wanted in the first place. Did she want to be where she was? Alone and in the dark, wishing she was in Malaysia with him? “Damn it,” she breathed as she made her way back to her living room.

Fifteen minutes into airfare comparisons, Elena’s phone began to vibrate on the coffee table.

* * *

 

_“Listen, I’m—I’m sorry I gotta go. Jameson’s calling me over.”_

“Okay…” Elena replied, defeated.

 _“I love you._ ”

She concluded the conversation with a half-hearted “Love you too” before the line went dead.

Tapping her phone against her palm, Elena allowed herself to finally ask the hard questions. What was the worst part about all of this? Was it the fact that she gave him the benefit of the doubt or that she believed he could change? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short and angsty tid-bit. I love Elena, but I feel that didn't get enough time to shine in the last game. What do you guys think? Also, I think it's about time these two got a scene together, don't you?


	10. "Hesitate."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how I imagine their relationship went south between Uncharted 1 and Uncharted 2.

Most nights weren’t like this.

On most nights, Nate would toss his cool comforter over his body and he would feel his eyelids grow heavy with the promise of a deep REM within minutes. If Elena was lying beside him, he’d turn to his side and wrap his arms around her middle until their bodies were flush together.

Tonight wasn’t like that.

Nate could feel the faint warmth of Elena’s body next to his, but unlike most nights, he hesitated to reach out to her. He laid on his back, rigid. He stared at the ceiling above them until his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he wondered how he was going to fix this one.

It wasn’t like he meant to hesitate, because he didn’t.

When he’d gotten her call earlier in the day, he hadn’t hesitated to grab his keys and hop into his car. He had hardly stopped to pull his shirt on before he left his studio apartment and slammed the door shut behind him. She’d told him her car had been giving her problems, and he listened. He had even made the mental note of looking into mechanics over the weekend, but that was when he thought they were just problems. Hearing a faint groan when you press the gas pedal is a problem, struggling to turn the car on is another problem.

Having your brakes give out on you in the middle of a highway is not _just_ a problem.

He could see her car steaming in the faint distance, alarming gray smoke formed and disappeared as cars sped past her on their routines. She didn’t call the insurance company or roadside assistance, she called him. He was her first choice.

“Killer response time. I’ll make sure to write a great review,” she teased as he pulled her into a quick embrace. He didn’t hesitate to bring her in close; he didn’t care if anyone else saw or if she thought it was too much for a humid summer day in Florida.

“Just making sure I hit my quota ma’m,” he cracked back with an easy smile. He pulled her car’s front hood open and nearly choked when he inhaled all of the warm exhaust.

“Jesus, Nate,” Elena slammed the hood shut and started waving clean air into his face. His eyes burned and he struggled to open them, but when he did, he saw Elena’s expression of concern, and the stinging eyes were well worth it.

“I actually don’t know anything about cars,” he admitted with a laugh.

After they made a couples of calls to people who knew a thing or two more about cars than how to just turn them on and accelerate, he drove her back to his apartment with take-out in tow.

If someone had told him a few months ago that the blonde reporter he tried to stiff on the island would be munching on chow mein in his living room today, he would have had a hell of a good laugh. Now, he’s just happy to have her around. After they had arrived back in the States and split their bounty from the El Dorado fiasco, she never really left. One night became two which then became a week that turned into a month or four, but neither of them said anything. They just were. She had her apartment somewhere in Tampa, but it hardly mattered to either of them. “I was already living out of a suitcase because of the show,” she’d told him, and he didn’t hesitate to make space for her where he could.

His couch became their couch, his towels became theirs, and before he knew it, she was making friends with the neighbor he hardly knew existed before she got settled in. He lived a bare-boned existence before she got involved, and he hadn’t noticed how empty it was until how much she filled it up. It wasn’t like she was cleaning or cooking or rearranging his life, but with her, everything was much more full. He liked having someone sitting next to him while he lazed about in front of the television. He liked the idle chit chat over Captain Crunch as much as he liked when they argued and compromised over controversial historical figures, politics, and what movie to watch that night. He liked that his passions were matched with her own, and that for once, he didn’t have stifle his. She just got him, more than anyone else he had ever known.

So when she said what she said, why did he just sit there?

Everything else was normal. She’d stepped back into the living room after tossing the takeout boxes in the trash, and she leaned into him the way she always did when they sat on the couch. There was a news report on the television about some faraway disaster, the sun was peeking through the blinds, and he placed his arm around her shoulders like he usually did. He wasn’t listening, and then he was.

“... I love you.”

He turned to her, and right away he knew what she saw wasn’t what she expected. She still waited.

And yet, he hesitated.

“Elena, I--” he stammered, but she waved him off.

“Look, I’m a big girl, Nate. Save me the excuses.” Her tone was nonchalant, dismissive. Anyone else would have assumed it really wasn’t a big deal, but he saw the hurt flicker in her eyes when he paused and didn’t answer. She masked it right away, but he didn’t miss his cue; he hesitated, and he failed.

So, tonight wasn’t like most nights.

He wanted to turn her around and let her know he knew. He knew he messed up, but he didn’t know how he could explain himself. He’s not the sort to get speechless, even in the most pressing situations, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the obvious. It was obvious to him, but what then? If he said it, there was no turning back. Saying it out loud is almost like a promise; just her, only her. Only her now and only her forever. What if he couldn’t live up to that promise?

He could name on one hand the number of people who had told him they loved him, and the number was fewer for those that loved him and were still around.

Was he scared?

Nate could feel his breathing hitch with every question that formed and raced around his brain. Beside him, Elena rolled onto her back. The two of them were side-by-side, touching, but there was an impassable abyss between them.

“I’m going back to Tampa tomorrow,” she whispered.

Nate shut his eyes in defeat, and he wondered if he could pretend to be sleeping. Could he pretend this wasn’t happening?

“Tomorrow morning?” He heard himself reply.

He felt the bed shift as Elena sat up on her elbow, “Yeah, most likely.”

He turned to look at her, and he wondered what she saw. Did she see the same hope that he saw on her face?

In the end, it didn’t matter. This time, he didn’t hesitate.

“Right, I guess you want to beat that morning traffic.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Just a general disclaimer that these brilliant characters aren't my own.


End file.
